


Blank Space

by synystermoxley



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Lawyer!Benoit, M/M, Romance, Smut, mechanic!Eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synystermoxley/pseuds/synystermoxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Benoit works a 9-5 Job at his father's law firm and drives a beat-up brown car. He starts having some trouble with it, so he takes it to Guerrero's Mechanic Shop to get it fixed. He doesn't like dealing with the rude mechanic, but his car trouble (and maybe something more) keeps bringing him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beautiful Brown Car

Chris’ car was what most people would call a piece of junk, but to him, it had a class all its own. Sure the backseat door on the driver’s side didn’t open. Sure, the back passenger’s side window didn’t roll down. Sure, there was a mismatched patch of paint on the front passenger’s side. Sure, The Horn blared every time he opened the driver’s door. But he loved his car. Why? Well if you were to ask him in the presence of his father. He’d say, “It’s the small flaws in things that make them beautiful” Which was mostly true. But if you were to ask him about when his father wasn’t around, he would add, “And it makes my father crazy that his only son would drive something like this.”Hey, if he couldn’t rebel against the Benoit Family business, he reserved the right to rebel against the Benoit family image.

 

He smiled at the thought, lazily pulling his arm up to start the engine. It started fine and he started to pull out of his spot, but suddenly, a loud incessant clanking noise startled Chris bolt upright in his seat.

 

“Don’t do this to me…” He said, slowly rubbing the steering wheel as if it would do somehow soothe his car. But the clanking continued. Chris stopped and dropped his head onto the steering wheel, knowing he was going to have to take it into a mechanic shop. He sighed. He didn’t know any mechanics. A friend of his father’s (Who had so many cars, he need four garages) had suggested a shop called Guerrero’s, saying it was the best shop.

 

 

Chris frowned. He did _not_ want to deal with this right now. He wanted to drive home and drink a cold bear. Watch a late show. But he had to be at work early the next morning; he’d have to ride with his father. He shuddered at the thought. The mechanic’s shop was definitely starting to sound better. And maybe he could leave it in the shop and go get a beer while the mechanic worked on his car! Now that was a plan he could get behind

 

* * *

 

 

Chris was wary as he pulled up to the shop. There were dozens of cars in the parking lot; each of them with dazzling paint jobs…cars that, if he owned one, would make his father beam. He wrinkled his nose as he pulled into a space and shut off his engine next to a robin's-egg blue '57 Shelby Cobra, which he recognized as belonging to his father's friend (Boy, he hoped he wouldn't run into him here). He was so caught up in his thoughts as he watched the mechanics polish the Shelby, he didn't notice a man in a dirty blue denim shirt walking up to him, wiping his hands on a red mechanic's rag with an eyebrow raised.

 

"Evening'. Car trouble? I heard you driving up from a mile away, ese."

 

Startled, Chris whipped his head around to look at the man. He had a dirty mess of dark hair and was chewing on a toothpick. Chris straightened himself up and opened his door, standing up and addressing the shorter man. The mechanic was surprised by the sound of the horn when the door was opened, so Chris stepped aside and shut it.

 

"Uh, yes. It started fine, but when I turned to get out of the parking lot, it started making a clanking noise…"

 

The mechanic made a face at the car and walked right past him toward the other side. He leaned over, examining the vehicle up-close like he was a jeweler or something. Chris stopped talking, a little irked that the mechanic wasn't listening to him. Suddenly, the mechanic stood up and nodded at Chris.

 

"What's a pretty blonde like you doin' drivin' an old piece of trash like this?"

 

Chris glared. He decided he did not like this mechanic.

 

"First of all, it's not 'a piece of trash', and second of all, I don't remember asking you for your opinion on my car!"

 

The mechanic smirked. "Oh, but you did. You brought your car here, didn't you?" he said, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and gesturing at Chris with it. "Can't fix a car unless I got opinions, and the important ones are gonna cost you. Señor …"

 

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Benoit. Chris Benoit."

 

The mechanic raised a brow. "Oh, Señor Benoit, son of the lawyer." He curtsied jokingly. "Eddie Guerrero, at your service."

 

Chris rolled his eyes. Oh, boy…just another place where his reputation preceded him. And this little pipsqueak was Guerrero? Honestly, he'd thought he'd be taller.

 

"What can I do ya for, Benny?" said Eddie, smiling and putting the toothpick back into his mouth.

 

Chris glared some more. "Please don't call me that. I didn't come here for you to patronize me, I came here for you to fix my car."

 

Guerrero chuckled. "Calmate , blondie, I'm only kidding you!"

 

Chris got in Guerrero's face. "Well, sorry if I'm not in the mood for your jokes! Now, will you please fix my car!?"

 

Guerrero seemed taken aback and pointed a finger into Chris’ chest.

 

"Sorry, pendejo, but I don't like your tone or your ugly car! Now if you're gonna keep shouting at me like that, you can take your attitude and that piece of junk off my lot and forget about me fixing anything!"

 

 

Chris was seething, but he really needed his car. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

"I'm sorry. It's…been a long day, and I guess I'm just...a little grumpy from work."

 

Guerrero scoffed. "A little grumpy?" He raised a brow at the blonde as he walked past him.

 

"Now. You said you started your car, went to turn out of the lot, and she started making a clanking noise, am I right?"

 

Chris was surprised. The guy had been listening to him after all. He nodded and they both walked over to the car.

 

"Would you pop the hood?" Guerrero said.

 

Chris did as he was told.

 

Guerrero ducked his head under the hood and started looking around. Chris craned his neck trying to see what Guerrero was doing under there, but all he could see as he leaned out of the window was the mechanic's back end. He uncomfortably leaned back into his seat and listened to Guerrero mutter as he dug around the engine block, checking fluids, rattling things...after a while, he got out of the car and walked around to the front, watching Guerrero as he bent over the engine block. Guerrero's behavior and his messed up hair reminded Chris of stories he'd once read about mad scientists. He swallowed back a laugh.

 

Finally, Guerrero stood up again, clicking his tongue and wiping his hands on that red rag. "Well, I'm sorry to say this, Benny, but this car is a mess. You have a power steering fluid leak, you need a new fan belt, you need an oil change, and that's only the stuff I've noticed so far. I still have to raise 'er up and take a look at your differential to see if it's the cause of the clanking noise."

 

Chris shook his head and handed Guerrero the car keys. "Ok, but…I just want the clanking fixed. It was driving fine before that started, and I have to be at work early tomorrow."

 

Guerrero raised a brow. "Sabes, Benny, if we don't fix the rest of this stuff, you'll have to come right back when something else breaks. And with a piece of junk like this, it won't be long."

 

Chris felt himself getting angry again, but he forced his voice to be calm. "Please, just fix the clanking noise. I'll deal with the rest of it later."

 

Guerrero shrugged a shoulder and saluted. "Esta bien, Benny. Just the clanking noise. You'll have to give me about five hours, holmes."

 

Chris' shoulders sagged. "That'll be after 10 pm."

 

Guerrero nodded. "That's right. Lucky you. I usually close at nine." He walked past Chris, winking at him as he went.

 

Chris felt uncomfortable again, though he wasn't sure why.

 

Chris watched as Guerrero opened the door, grimaced at the horn sound, got in, quickly shut the door, started the car, struggled to turn the car around, and finally drove it into his garage. He walked into the garage just in time to catch Guerrero muttering "You call that a turning radius? Sheesh."

 

Chris cleared his throat. "Uh, is there a…bar or…something like that around here where I could get some food?"

 

Guerrero was attaching chains to the car and didn't look up. "Yeah…there's a bar down the street called Austin's, as a matter of fact…" He stopped to sniff and wipe his nose on the back of his hand. "They've got good beer and great hamburgers; if that's the kind of stuff you're into."

 

Chris furrowed his brows. "And just what kind of stuff do you think I'm into?"

 

Guerrero stopped to look up at Chris. "Don't worry. With a tub like this, you sure don't strike me as the fancy type."

 

Chris rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what direction it's in."

 

Guerrero chuckled. "North down 28th. It's got a big orange sign. You can't miss it."

 

Chris frowned and started to walk away.

 

"Hey, Benny, if you get a chance, bring me back some of the meatloaf. It's the best."

 

Chris looked back to see a big lopsided smirk on the mechanic's face. He turned around and kept walking.

 

"What does he think I am?! Some kind of…" He sighed. Getting all worked up over a mechanic he'd never see again after that day was just not worth his time. He took a deep breath and walked off down 28th, soon seeing the big orange sign Guerrero had told him about.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris walked into the bar and sat down at one of the round tables. Soon, a pretty waitress walked up to his table.

 

"What can I get for ya, sugar?"

 

Chris smiled a dopey smile. "Uhh…I'll take a hamburger and the lightest beer you have."

 

She smiled back and wrote something down on her book. "Lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard alright?"

 

Chris nodded the dumb smile still on his face.

 

"Fries or onion rings?" She asked.

 

"Surprise me," Chris blurted.

 

She laughed and closed her book. "Okay, sugar. That'll be right out."

 

He appreciatively watched her backside as she walked over to the bar and said something to the bartender. The bartender nodded and walked over to the taps, pouring a light beer. He walked out to Chris’ table and set the beer down.

 

"Welcome to Austin's. I ain’t ever seen you around here before, what's your name?"

 

"Uh, Chris. Nice to meet you, Mr…"

 

The muscular man smiled and shook Chris’ hand. "Steve Austin himself, owner of this establishment; It's a pleasure, Chris."

 

Chris smiled at him. It was nice to meet someone for once who didn't associate him with his father. He made a mental note not to mention his last name to anyone else that night.

 

"So, what's a fancy dude like you doing on this side of town at this time of day?" Austin said, gesturing to Chris’ suit. Chris looked down; he'd almost forgotten that he was wearing it.

 

"Oh…I'm getting my car fixed. I walked down here from Gue—"

 

"Guerrero’s!" Austin finished the sentence for him with a big smile on his face. "How's that cat doing? He must be busy, I ain't seen him in here in a long time!"

 

Chris blinked. How could anybody like that joker so much?

 

"Uhh he's…just as…crass as ever."

 

Austin laughed aloud. "Ah, that's real special! You tell him Austin said hello when you go pick up your ride, huh? Enjoy your food."

 

Austin patted Chris on the shoulder as he walked off to meet another customer.

 

Chris rested his elbow on the table and dropped his chin into his hand. It seemed like that rude mechanic was well-liked. Chris smirked. Maybe it was because he was the only one who liked this place's meatloaf.

 

* * *

 

 

One delicious hamburger, sixteen onion rings, two beers, one piece of apple pie a la mode, three and a half glasses of water, and a solo game of darts later, Chris looked up at the clock. 9:16. He sighed, contemplating whether or not to get another beer. He decided against it; it was too close to the time that Guerrero had promised he'd be done with his car, and he had to drive home. He sat back down at his table, frowning.

 

He scratched an itch he had on his chest and his thoughts returned to the rude mechanic named Eddie. Where did he get that attitude? What made him think it was ok to talk to potential customers like that? If Chris were to disrespect potential clients like that, he'd get heavily reprimanded. Chris shook his head. It didn't matter. In a little less than an hour, this would all be over and he could go home, go to bed, and forget all about that rude, messy-haired mechanic.

 

The phone rang and Austin answered it, a big smile spreading across his face after a second. Chris didn't pay much attention; he just decided Austin must be talking to an old friend. He busied himself with drawing smiley faces in the condensation on his glass of water, an absent-minded grin on his face. He didn't notice Austin hang up the phone, walk into the back, and walk back out with something wrapped in tin foil. He was almost startled when Austin walked up to his table.

 

"Hey, Chris , that was Guerrero. He says he's done with your car."

 

Chris blinked and looked at the clock. 9:24. "Really?"

 

Austin chuckled and put the thing wrapped in tin foil on the table.

 

"Yeah, he's a real miracle worker, that Guerrero. Fixed my motorcycle in two hours once…"

 

But Chris wasn't paying attention. "What is that?" he said, pointing at the tin foil.

 

"Meatloaf," said Austin. "You wouldn't mind taking that back to him, would you?"

 

Chris frowned, but...he was going back that way anyway…

 

"Sure, why not?"

 

Austin smiled. "Great. Thanks. Be safe, brother," and with that, Austin walked back behind the bar.

 

Chris picked up the meatloaf, frowning at it. He was a little irked that he hadn't even protested about taking it to Eddie. He shrugged. Guerrero had finished his car early. Maybe he deserved a little extra.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris walked back south on 28th toward Guerrero's shop, noticing as he got there that all of the cars with the shiny paint jobs were gone, except for a red chevy impala 1964 lowrider parked in the corner. He frowned at it. The color made it look like a tomato.

 

Suddenly, the garage door opened, and out drove his beautiful brown car…except it didn't whine when it turned anymore and the clanking noise was gone. Chris approached the car as Guerrero shut it off and stepped out, wincing at the horn noise and shutting the door as soon as humanly possible. He smiled when he looked up at Chris and saw the foil in his hand.

 

"Is that my meatloaf?"

 

Chris held it out to him. "Yeah, yeah, here's your meatloaf."

 

"Thank you, Benn—sorry. Benoit." Guerrero said, shaking his head as he dug in.

 

Chris frowned and looked down.

 

Eddie furrowed his brows and swallowed the bite he had taken. "What? You don't like that, either? What am I supposed to call you?"

 

Chris opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

 

"Just…just not Benoit. My father calls me Benoit,."

 

Eddie nodded and shrugged. "Ok. Benny it is."

 

Chris rolled his eyes, but this Guerrero guy did seem a little nicer now that he had some food.

 

"Alright, how much is this opinion of yours gonna cost me?" Chris said, taking out a checkbook.

 

Eddie took another bite of his meatloaf.

 

"Well," he said with his mouth full, taking a piece of yellow paper out of his pocket and unfolding it. "Looks like you're set back…236.66." He paused to swallow. "That's for the work on the differential and replacing your right front wheel, cos it was bent pretty badly, holmes."

 

Chris glared. "I thought I told you just to fix the clanking noise."

 

Eddie didn't even look up at him, he just kept eating his meatloaf.

 

"Since you brought me this meatloaf, I'm not even gonna charge you for changing the oil. You know, it's really unsafe driving above 45 miles an hour with a wheel bent like yours was. I mean, I'm sure you felt it start to shimmy as you got up to about 45-55 miles an hour, right?"

 

Chris was speechless for a second. Maybe this Guerrero guy was actually nice under his ornery exterior.

 

"Right...w—You-you're not gonna charge me for changing my oil?"

 

Eddie snapped his fingers. "Oh, cierto , and I filled your power steering fluid tank. You're gonna need to keep an eye on it, though, a leak like that drains fluid fast."

 

Chris blinked at him, then shook his head and filled out the check.

 

"Hate to say this, Benny, but you're gonna be back, and soon, too. You're lucky this piece of basura lasted this long—no offense intended, just...a statement of fact."

 

Chris glared at Eddie as he handed him the check. Then again, maybe he was just rude.

 

"We'll see about that…" Chris said, and then he got into his car and drove home. Four days later, however, he regretted his skepticism.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey," Chris said as he walked up to Eddie  in the garage. "I'm, uh…back."

 

"Would it hurt to say I told you so?" Eddie asked, not even looking up from his work.

 

Chris rolled his eyes. "Ah, stuff it…" he muttered, but Guerrero heard him and laughed.

 

"A little frustrated, are we, ese?"

 

Chris just glared at him.

 

"Alright, what's wrong with her this time?" Guerrero asked. "Wait, let me guess…" Eddie rubbed his chin with a dirty hand, leaving a black smudge on the right side of his face. He snapped and pointed at Chris

 

"It's making a shrieking noise when you hit the gas, it's smoking, and it smells like burnt rubber."

 

Chris blinked.

 

"H—how did you know that?"

 

Eddie just laughed and stuck out his hand for the car keys. "How did I know that?! Hasn't anyone ever told you I'm the best in my field?"

 

Chris furrowed his brows and handed over the car keys. Eddie grinned at him.

 

"You can head over to Austin’s for about four hours this time. I should be done with her by then." He started to walk over to the car, but then stopped. "Oh, and if you bring me some apple pie, I won't charge you for the power steering fluid." He winked and walked over to Chris’ car, entering it from the passenger's side door and scooting over into the driver's seat.

 

Chris frowned and watched the mechanic drive his car into the garage, much in the same manner he had the previous time he'd been there. He shook his head and walked north toward Austin’s. Something about the way Guerrero winked at him made him wonder about the guy. He was sure he was just imagining things, but…the way Guerrero looked at him, it was almost like he was…hungry? Chris wasn't even sure if that was the right word, but it was the only one he could come up with that remotely fit. It bothered him, sure, but he was positive it was just his imagination, so he stopped thinking about it.


	2. Unusual You

When he got to Austin’s, he was surprised when the pretty waitress recognized him…and even more surprised when she addressed him as "Benny". So Eddie had been there…and he'd talked about him. The waitress didn't seem any less nice than she had been the other night, so maybe he hadn't said anything bad? He shook his head and put it out of his mind. This was the last time he'd need Eddie's services, right? So why should he worry about it? Still…He couldn't stop himself from being a little curious as to what Guerrero had to say about him.

 

He had only been at Austin's for two hours when Austin showed up at his table, this time with a cardboard takeout box.

 

"Guerrero's pie," Austin said. "He said he asked you to bring it to him."

 

Chris was about to say something about not being a delivery boy, but he bit back the comment when he remembered that Eddie had agreed not to charge him for power steering fluid if he brought it to him.

 

"Yep," he said through his teeth. "He did that."

 

Austin smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

 

"You're a saint. Take care, ok?"

 

Chris nodded back at Austin as he left to go visit his other customers.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chris walked south, back to Guerrero's shop, with the cardboard takeout box in his hands. There were still other shiny cars in the parking lot, but none of them were the same as last time…except that red tomat—Lowrider—was still in the corner parking spot. He wondered what was wrong with it, if it was still there after four days. He was still looking at it when Guerrero walked up to him.

 

"That my pie?" he said, nodding to the box.

 

Chris handed it over. "Yep, Austin warmed it up for you, too."

 

Eddie smiled and opened the box, taking a second to smell the pie.

 

"Mmmm smell that? That's a welcome change from breathing in motor oil and rubber all day, I can tell you that…"

 

"How much, Guerrero?"

 

Eddie stopped smelling his pie and looked at Chris for a second with a new, unreadable look on his face that made Chris just as uncomfortable as the winks. Eddie smiled and closed his takeout box, taking a piece of that yellow paper out of his pocket and unfolding it.

 

"That's...124.82 for replacing the fan belt and cleaning up a bit, and one slice of pie," He held it up, "for filling your power steering tank."

 

Chris filled out the check and handed it to Guerrero, sticking a hand out for his keys.

 

Eddie looked at Chris' hand before placing the keys in his palm.

 

"You know, Benny…You really ought to let me replace the power steering system. It's in pretty bad shape, holmes."

 

Chris shook his head. "You just want me to spend more money."

 

"You could've spent less if you'd done it all at once," Eddie countered.

 

Chris frowned. "But then it would've taken you longer."

 

Guerrero shrugged. "Woulda stayed up all night if that's what it took,papi."

 

He looked at Chris, smiling softly, and Chris almost forgot he was that rude, crazy mechanic/thorn in his side. Chris started to feel uncomfortable again as those brown eyes held his gaze and he quickly looked down. Eddie leaned against Chris’ car.

 

"Well, unless you like the idea of coming here every week, I at least suggest you buy some power steering fluid so you can fill it every few days until you get the system replaced."

 

Chris was still trying to shake off Eddie's gaze. "Maybe later," he said, opening his car door and smiling when he heard the horn.

 

Eddie was grimacing. "You like that?" He shouted over the horn.

 

"What? I can't hear you," Chris said, smiling at him and getting in the car.

 

Guerrero looked perplexed for a second...and then he started laughing.

 

Chris closed the door and rolled down his window. "What's so funny?"

 

"I get it," Eddie said. "You like it because when you open your door and get into your car, you don't have to listen to your father, right?"

 

Chris was surprised at the mechanic's insight.

 

"What are you, a shrink now, too?"

 

Eddie smirked. "Si. And I'm working on becoming a doctor, a lawyer, and a plumber."

 

Chris couldn't help but laugh.

 

"What, no mad scientist?"

 

Guerrero put a hand to his chin. "I hadn't thought of that. I'll have to add it to my to do list."

 

Chris smiled back. Maybe this Guerrero guy wasn't so bad after all. Chris planned on going in next week for the power steering fluid as he drove away, leaving Eddie in the parking lot with his pie

 

* * *

 

Chris sat in his small office in the law firm where he worked. He was supposed to be working on a brief but he was staring off into space thinking about Eddie Guerrero. For three days Chris hadn't been able to get the mechanic off of his mind. The way those big brown eyes had watched him. So close and direct, almost like Eddie had been studying him. Was Eddie attracted to him? If so, he had no idea how to react to that, because he was definitely uncomfortable each time the mechanic winked or gazed at him for too long. Was he actually uncomfortable or was it him not knowing how to exactly describe how he felt? He hadn't really been attracted or interested in anybody for years. He looked at the wall clock in his office and realized he'd been thinking about the man for a good ten minutes. He needed to get his mind on work. He wasn't going to get anything done by day dreaming.

 

* * *

 

 

"You know, you've been coming here a lot lately," Eddie said from under a vehicle.

 

Chris furrowed his brows. "How did you know it was me?"

 

"Nobody else around here wears fancy leather shoes like that, papi."

 

Chris frowned at Guerrero's legs.

 

"So I've been coming around a lot. So what?"

 

Eddie rolled himself out from under the vehicle.

 

"Sabes, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were starting to like me or something, papi" he said with a smirk.

 

Chris felt himself flushing a bit.

 

"I'm here for that power steering fluid," he said flatly.

 

Eddie smiled, got up, and brushed himself off.

 

"Why don't you let me fix the system so you don't have to deal with me anymore?"

 

Chris narrowed his eyes. "How much is that gonna cost me?"

 

Guerrero smiled, his eyes never leaving Chris’. "My estimate? 100 bucks and a beer or two."

 

Chris looked back at Eddie. "A beer or two?" he repeated.

 

Eddie nodded. "That is, if you can stand being seen at Austin's with a grimy guy like me."

 

He held a hand out for the car keys. "I'll meet you there in three hours after I'm done with your car."

 

Chris blinked and, without thinking, gave Eddie his car keys.

 

* * *

 

 

He wondered why he hadn't given Guerrero's offer any thought as he headed off to Austin's. He finally decided that, for his own safety, he needed to get the power steering fixed, and why not do it now? But even that felt like an afterthought; like he was making excuses for something. Chris shrugged off the feeling as he walked past Austin's big orange sign. He supposed, with Guerrero's track record, that he could trust him to be done soon and then he wouldn't have to worry about coming back anymore. The thought almost made him stop walking. He hated to say it, but the messy-haired mechanic had really started to grow on him.

 

He had spent the whole day on Friday thinking about going to get the power steering fluid, like it was the most important thing on his plate at the moment. He'd tried to tell himself that it wasn't that important, that he should focus on his work, but the thought kept popping up in the back of his mind like a target from one of those shoot-'em-up carnival games. And here he was on Saturday, sitting at a table at Austin’s bar, sipping a beer, while Eddie replaced his whole power steering system. What was so special about this place that he wanted to keep coming back? He thought about it as he ordered a Hamburger, with fries this time.

 

He looked around the bar. This was the first time he'd been there in jeans and a t-shirt, and it felt great. He didn't feel like he had to pose a certain way to get people to like him. He wasn't "the laywer's son" or "the rich kid" here; nobody cared what he was or did. For the first time in a long time, he felt…normal.

 

After a while, Austin walked up and gave him a little punch on the arm.

 

"Benny, you're really gettin' to be a regular around here. What happened to your fancy clothes?"

 

Chris smiled. Maybe it was ok that they all called him "Benny".

 

"It's Saturday. I'm off work."

 

Austin nodded. "Ah, I see. So that monkey suit is your uniform."

 

Chris nodded back and took another sip of his beer.

 

"Where do you work, anyway? At a bank, or something?"

 

Chris shook his head and frowned. "Benoit Law Firm."

 

Austin chuckled. "Ohh, so that's why Guerrero calls you Benny."

 

Chris nodded and frowned some more.

 

Austin patted Chris on the arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. What you do doesn't define you."

 

Then, somebody called Austin back behind the bar and he left. Chris smiled. Austin was right…he wasn't defined by the job his parents wanted him to do…not any more than he was defined by the Benoit family image. Maybe his parent's social circle thought it defined him, but…he wanted to figure out his own definition.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Chris wasn't even done with his second beer when Eddie walked into the bar. He looked like he'd at least cleaned his face and hands up a bit before walking down there, though there was still a line of black under his fingernails. He spotted Chris and walked over to him, putting his car keys on the table and taking a seat.

 

"All fixed up. You still have a backlog of problems with that poor tub of yours, though. Your shocks are in bad shape, one of the control arms is starting to rust, and that's not to mention the brakes—"

 

"You just want me to keep coming back to see you," Chris said, surprised at his sudden lack of inhibition.

 

Eddie smiled. "Or maybe your car wants you to keep coming back to see me,papi."

 

Chris smiled and stared into his beer, just so that he'd have something to look at other than Eddie's face.

 

Soon, the pretty waitress lady came over and asked Eddie what she could get for him.

 

"A few hours might be nice, but I'll settle for a hamburger with fries and an IPA, mamsita."

 

She smiled, shook her head at him, and hit him on the head with her book. "Oh Eddie, you watch your mouth! I'll be right back, ok?"

 

He smiled at her and watched her walk away. Chris raised a brow and took another sip of his beer. This mechanic really was rude...

 

"I've known her for years," Eddie said, shaking his head, as if he'd heard Chris mentally calling him rude. "It's just a joke anymore. I know she isn’t interested."

 

Chris nodded, one eyebrow still raised. "You seem to really like to joke with people."

 

Eddie smirked. "You don't seem to like jokes at all, ese."

 

Chris frowned at him. "Not really, especially not when a mad scientist makes dry ones at my expense."

 

Guerrero laughed. "Better that than wet ones." He ate a couple of peanuts from the bowl on the table. "Ok, Benny. I'll lay off the jokes about you, then…" He paused. "Except for when they're really funny."

 

Chris gave him a look. Eddie just smiled at him and ate another couple of peanuts.

 

"You're just too easy to get to, papi. You gotta lighten up a bit."

 

Chris frowned again. He supposed Guerrero was right…but he didn't have to like it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Guerrero wasn't as talkative after he got his hamburger. In fact, he ate it in what Chris would consider record time. He was already polishing off his fries before he spoke again.

 

"Tell me something," he said, licking ketchup off his finger. "Where'd you find that piece of junk, anyway?"

 

Chris gave him a look, but he answered anyway. "I found her at a used car lot, if you must know."

 

Eddie snorted. "Don't tell me: it was love at first sight."

 

"Hey, I do love that car, alright? And I don't appreciate you calling her 'tub' and 'junk' all the time!"

 

Eddie put up his hands. "Right, right, perdoname." He ate a couple more fries. "What I guess I'm really wondering is, why that particular car? Out of all the ones you could've picked, why that one?"

 

Chris put down his glass of water, a hundred explanations running through his head. "She just happened to be the second cheapest. And I like the way she handles. And...I bought her with my own money, not my parents'."

 

Guerrero looked at him expectantly as if he knew there was more.

 

"And...well, to be perfectly honest...she was the only one in that lot that I knew my father would absolutely hate."

 

Eddie nodded; slowly, like a wise man who had it all figured out.

 

"If you don't like your old man that much, why are you working for him?" Eddie asked, suddenly as serious as if he had Chris on the witness stand. Chris opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, and then realized he didn't really know.

 

"I...guess...I guess it was always...expected of me, so—"

 

"Do you like being a lawyer like your old man?" Eddie interrupted.

 

Chris opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

 

"Well...no, but—"

 

Eddie shook his head. "Then what are you wasting your time for?"

 

Chris shook his head. Why didn't this crazy guy understand? "Because I have to—I-I don't have a choice—"

 

Eddie put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. "You always have a choice. You know what my father wanted me to be? A doctor. I get squeamish at the mention of blood, and he wanted me to operate on people with little knives, a needle and thread. I told him to stuff it, and I left."

 

Chris looked at Guerrero with wide eyes. "What? You just...left? You just...got up and walked away from your family?"

 

Eddie nodded.

 

Chris shook his head. He couldn't imagine doing that...except...he wanted to. He wanted to walk into that law firm and put in his two weeks notice, if for nothing else, just to see the look on his father's face when he walked out those pristine, engraved glass double-doors.

 

"What do you want to be? If you could do anything, right this second, what would you want to do?" Eddie asked.

 

Chris blinked. This was overwhelming. He hadn't given this any thought at all.

 

"We—I...I don't know."

 

Guerrero cocked his head. "Oh, come on, Benny, think back...to when you were a little kid watching TV; riding your bike outside. Playing tag and what not. What did you want to be? Even if you always kept it a secret?"

 

Chris closed his eyes and thought. He thought about it as hard as he could, and suddenly, he was 12 again, playing with his best friend's pop gun on the green front lawns of their estate. He smiled.

 

"I...wanted to be a cop," he said softly.

 

Eddie smiled. "There, you see? Ahora, why can't you quit your job at that sleazy law firm and march yourself up to the police academy and drop in an application, huh?"

 

Chris blinked. He stared off into space. Oh, how he wanted to do that. But he knew it wouldn't fly. He shook his head.

 

"I couldn't...I couldn't do that, I...it would break mother's heart...and dad put so much work into getting me where I am today..."

 

Eddie took his hand off Chris’ shoulder and sighed, putting a napkin over his empty plate.

 

"Sounds like excuses to me, papi."

 

Chris glared at Guerrero and opened his mouth to say something, but Guerrero said something first.

 

"Why don't we go back to the shop and talk payment, huh?"

 

Chris nodded, now feeling angry and unsure of himself. He hated the mechanic for shaking him up like he did! He didn't know what life was like as a Benoit! Much less about being the only son in a long line of Benoits! A guy had a responsibility to his family! It wasn't just a matter of what was good for him! Every decision he made affected his family. He silently cursed at the mechanic as he followed him back to the shop. Good thing he'd never have to come back after today.

 


	3. Set Me Free

Breakfast with his parents was never one of Benoit’s favorite things to do, but it was a long-standing Saturday tradition that couldn't be avoided unless somebody was practically dying. At least the food was good; he'd never had anything against his parent's cooks. They always made good, creamy oatmeal and nice, crispy bacon.

 

Chris was halfway done with his oatmeal when he heard his father clear his throat; the way he always did before he was about to ask a question. His father dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin before setting it back into his lap.

 

"You've been spending much too much money on that horrible car of yours, Christopher. Why?"

 

Chris sighed. He hated it when his father just went rummaging around in his personal finances without so much as a warning or a 'please'.

 

"Dad, I'm slowly getting her fixed, ok? There's just one more problem I need to get taken care of and then she's—"

 

"Benny, why haven't you liked any of the cars we've offered you?" His mother interrupted, looking honestly perplexed as to why he didn't take a shine to any of the little sports cars they'd tried to buy for him two weeks prior.

 

"Because, mother, I like this one. I bought her with my own money. I earned her, and that means a lot to me," Chris said, setting down his spoon.

 

"Christopher, that car you drive is just atrocious. Why don't you at least get it painted a decent color?"

 

Chris shook his head. "I don't want to argue with you about this, dad. I'm 25 years old. I can make my own decisions now."

 

"Christopher, you may be an adult, but you work for our firm, and we have a certain image we like to uphold. We serve a lot of high-end clients, and when that…car of yours is in the parking lot…"

 

Chris found himself trying to drown out what his father had to say by thinking of something else—anything else—and that something else just happened to be his mechanic's brown eyes.

 

 

Those looks he thought Guerrero was giving him…were they in his imagination, or was Eddie really giving him looks? Looks that made him nervous and gave him butterflies. Was he doing that on purpose? Could he tell that he was making Chris nervous? He suddenly couldn't wait to go back..

 

"Christopher? Christopher, are you listening to me?"

 

Chris shook his head. "I'm sorry, dad, I just…can't think about this right now."

 

He grabbed his keys and walked out to his car, reveling in the sound of the horn when he opened the door. He got in and headed towards Eddie's shop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Would you like to go out to dinner with me?"

 

"So formal. Are you also going to bring me a corsage? My favorite color is red. That should help you pick out the ribbon."

 

Benoit's face tightened and his blue eyes quickly went from soft to snapping with anger. "Forget I asked."

 

He started to turn around but Eddie grabbed his arm before he could leave. Chris had a temper. He shouldn't be surprised. He remembered how Chris had snapped at him when they first met. He liked that. It would take more than a pretty face and a tight body to hold his attention for more than one night. "Don't go.Estaba jodiendo contigo" Chris relaxed so Eddie let him go. "Yes, I'll go to dinner with you." Chris smiled and Eddie brushed a thumb over his lips. Chris shivered.

 

A small smile touched the corners of Eddie's mouth and his eyes sparkled with amusement. Chris felt like Eddie was laughing at a secret joke. But he didn't get the joke and he sort of felt like he needed to explain himself. He licked his lips. Suddenly Eddie's hand slid into his hair gripping it tight. Chris froze. He watched as Eddie's tongue darted out and ran over his bottom lip. His skin prickled with anticipation. Was he about to be kissed? He licked his lips again more out of nervousness. Eddie's eyes tracked the movement before he looked directly at him. Chris was taken aback by the intensity he saw in his brown eyes. They were bright with heat and sharp with hunger. He'd never had anyone look at him like that before. His heart pounded with an exhilarating mix of fear and desire. Maybe he was right. Maybe he just felt uncomfortable.

 

Eddie could feel his blood racing under his skin, thick and hot as it shot straight to his cock. He wanted to kiss Chris, pull the pretty boy onto the ground so that he could be fucked by the blond right there on the garage floor. His fingers clenched on the strands of hair in his fist as he seriously considered doing exactly that. But although there was definitely desire in the wide eyes that stared back at him, there was also hesitation. Chris wasn't ready for the furious passion he would unleash on him. Normally with his partners he didn't give a fuck if they were nervous. He just did whatever was necessary until he got them to give him what he wanted. But for whatever reason with Chris, he was willing to take his time and put him at ease. Closing his eyes to the sight of those pouty lips, he ruthlessly pushed back his desire. Eddie untangled his fingers from Chris’ hair and opening his eyes he took a step away from temptation.

"Friday at 8:00." Chris nodded. "Alright, I'll see you then." He took another step back, watching as Chris got into his car. He waved in response to the hand Chris raised in goodbye. After he was gone Eddie reassured himself he'd done the right thing. Good things came to those who waited, right?


End file.
